When I'm Gone (15 page)

Chapter 28-September 11, 2001; 9:49 a.m. (Claire)

A few minutes ago, I had taken to pacing my room. I knew that Alex was watching me with concern, but I didn’t care. Some more of my students had gone home and the rest were still watching the news cast.
I had my phone in my hand and I shot worried glances at it, wanting to call Michael. I knew he was there, probably saving somebody’s life. I frowned and looked at the television.
The towers were still burning profusely. There was no way that the fire fighters were going to be able to put that out. It was way too big.
Come on, Michael, I pleaded silently. I flipped the phone in my hand and contemplated throwing it against the wall. I tightened my grip on the little phone and sighed. I looked back over at Alex.
He stood with Hope off to the side. She was still crying but the tears had slowed some and she was holding onto Alex’s hand tightly. She had turned away from the news and spoke to Alex. He would
nod
every once in a while and sometimes even shook his head. But his eyes, we trained in on me, flicking every now and then to look at the news. At that moment, his eyes caught mine and he grimaced.
“You okay?” he mouthed. I shook my head and bit my tongue to keep from crying out.
“No,” I mouthed back and let a tear slip down my cheek. He nodded as if he understood and turned back to the television.
The reporter kept us updated, telling us that hundreds were already dead and that the numbers were estimated to reach a few thousand. I shook my head in denial, not wanting to believe any of it.
Abruptly, my phone started to ring. My eyes widened with shock and I looked at the screen. An unknown number flashed at me and I frowned, confused. I flipped it open and pressed the
reciever
to my ear.
“Hello?” I asked carefully. There was deep breathing on the other end and I was about to hang up when the person spoke.
“Claire Barnes?” It was a man’s voice; deep and cautious.
“Yes,” I said in a clipped voice. The man was starting to scare me.
“Its,” he paused searching for an answer, “it’s your dad.”
I froze, the
reciever
still pressed to my ear. My knees buckled and I fell onto the floor. Alex ran over to me but I waved him off.
“I’m fine,” I mouthed at him. Concern masked his expression, but he walked a few feet away. To my dad I said, “Dad?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Look, I know this is bad timing, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You and Alex, I mean.”
“You were wondering if we were
okay?
” I repeated. And then it hit me.
“Where did you get my number?”
“
Your mother gave it to me. I called her a few minutes ago. She gave me your cell number and I just wanted to make sure that you guys weren’t hurt in the explosions,” he explained. I nodded
slowly into the phone.
“Wait,” I told him. “You wanted to check up on us? You mean, we actually matter now?”
“Claire,” he whispered. I laughed; it was short and haughty-the way I used to laugh.
“No,” I told him. “Let me finish.”
“Okay,” he murmured, knowing that he was defeated.
“For four years, you beat me. You would hit me, kick me, and even through things at me. You would scream at me, saying that I was a worthless brat. You broke my bones. You gave me black eyes. You etched the word ‘ugly’ into my skin. You got me pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” he asked in disbelief. I smiled grimly into the phone
.
“Yes, dad,” I said the word mockingly. “At age fourteen, you got me pregnant and I had to get an abortion. I couldn’t raise a child-your child by the way-at age fourteen. I was way too freaking young. I didn’t tell anybody though.
Because if you found out, then you would have beaten me, wondering why I didn’t use birth control.
Fourteen year olds do not use birth control, dad. We just don’t. And after that, you continuously raped me. Oh believe me, I tried to stay away, but you always got in.
Always.”
“
Claire, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know,” he stammered. I forced out another laugh.
“You didn’t know?” I asked icily. “Oh that’s right. You don’t remember because you were stinking drunk when you got home. Then, after I left, you started hammering in on Alex. You broke his first bone at age four. And it got worse for him. No wonder he ran away too. God, you....you were awful. And now....now you call me to make sure that we are okay? You actually care about us now? Or is it just the guilt building up inside your black soul. Oh, that’s right. You don’t have a soul. Do you?”
It was silent on the other end, but I knew my dad was still there. I could hear the air hissing through his clenched teeth.
“Claire, I have changed,” he said. “I have been sober for six months now...”
“Oh my God.
Six months? That must be
a new records
for you. Congrats,” I
interuppted
with a sarcastic voice. He let out a gruff sigh.
“God, Claire. I have changed. You can come see for yourself,” he offered
.
“No thanks,” I scoffed. “I don’t want another black eye.”
“Would you stop?” he interjected in an angry voice. I frowned and rolled my eyes. “Claire, I have changed. Please, believe me.”
“Whatever,” I shot back.
“Please just tell me that you guys are okay,” he pleaded.
“No dad. We are not okay. America is under attack and Alex is dead.
You happy now?”
“
You’re kidding,” he stated. “You have got to be kidding.”
“I am, okay?
But only about the ‘Alex being dead’ part.
God,” I muttered
.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Claire,” he warned. I laughed humorlessly.
“Like you care,” I shot back. “Look, I have to go. Alex wants me.”
“Okay, give him my love,” he said.
“No thanks,” I told him, getting annoyed.
“Okay,” he complied. “But I do love you, you know. I always have.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever,” I commented and hung up. I placed the phone back into my pocket and stood up. I wiped a few stray tears from my cheeks and forced a smile onto my face.
“Let me guess,” Alex stated behind me.
“Dad.”
“
Yeah,” I answered. “He wanted to ‘check up on us’ and to tell us that he changed.”
“What a two timing
lyer
,” Alex spat. I grinned and put a hand on his back.
“Now, that is why I call you my brother and why I love you,” I said and gave him a hug. As we hugged, a few students gasped and pointed at the television.
We pulled away and I looked over at the news report. Visibly, you could see the South Tower trembling. Suddenly, the top of it caved in and the whole building collapsed. It was like one second, it was there, and then right when you blink,
it
was gone. A massive cloud of dust filled the streets and suddenly the camera went dead. The screen turned black and there was silence
throughtout
the room.
Everybody in the classroom was crying except for Alex. Part of me was mad at him for not crying. How could he not cry when this many people were
dying.
He could have at least shed one tear.
“Stupid boy,” I muttered and turned away from him.
I placed my head in my hands again and choked out a sob. All of those innocent people were gone. They died. That put the deaths in the thousands.
Business owners.
Secretaries.
Officers.
Police.
Fire fighters.
Suddenly, I froze again.
“Fire fighters,” I whispered in agony. “Michael.”
My stomach lurched once again and I ran to the nearest sink. I vomited and Alex came over to hold my hair on the back of my neck. He twisted it into a pony tail and then let go. I straightened myself, wiping my mouth with a towel and turned to him.
“Michael,” I repeated and started to sob.
“Oh, Claire,” he sighed. “You don’t even know if he was in the South Tower. He could be in the North Tower for all you know. Or he could even be in an ambulance with a victim. Think positive, Claire.”
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I am just worried sick and after seeing that, I don’t know if I can take it anymore.”
“
Um, Claire?”
Hope called out trough her tears. I looked over at her. She was on her phone talking to someone.
“Yeah?”
I wondered. She let out a sob, her gaze fixed on me
.
“The North Tower just collapsed too.”
The world abruptly disappeared and I started running. I didn’t know where I was going, but I just ran.

Chapter 29-September 23, 2001 (Claire)

I felt my knees buckle and I sank down onto the wet grass. I sniffed and ran a gloved hand through my damp hair. I could feel the water seeping into my boots, but I didn’t care. I swallowed loudly and rocked back.
I sat like that for a moment; kneeling on the grass, thinking about everything. I placed my hand in my jacket pocket and fingered the small blade nestled in the warmth.
“
Hm
,” I murmured and closed my eyes. A tear slipped out from my closed eye lids and I shivered violently. The wind was a whiplash against my cheeks; they were turned red from the rough breeze.
The cold was sneaking into my sleeves and into my skin. Goosebumps rose on my arm and I rubbed another hand over it. I was instantly warmed and sighing, I watched my visible breath rise into the air in white
whisps
.
I glanced behind me and saw Alex and Hope standing at the gate’s entrance. Behind them, a car was idled, still running. Just thinking about the warmth in the car, had me longing to get up and walk away.
I can’t leave him, I told myself. I wrapped my long arms around my body as if I was going to fall apart any moment. It feels like that, anyway
.
“Claire, you don’t have to do this,” Alex called out. I cut my gaze towards him and glared at him through narrowed eyes. He held his hands up in a ‘back-off’ manner and I turned back away.
“Yes, I do,” I said back. I said it again to reassure myself, “I do.”
“Just leave her alone,” Hope whispered harshly. He voice broke on
hte
last word and she stifled a sob. I rolled my eyes and ran my hands together,
then
taking the leather gloves off. It was getting colder as the sun went down.
Slowly, I ran my fingers over the stone’s edge. It was icy to the touch. I shivered again and pulled back. I reached behind me and pulled out a single rose. I set it on the stone and felt a frozen tear cling to my cheek as I fingered the block lettering on the front of the stone.
Michael Herring. July 30, 1974 to September 11, 2001. A loved son, brother, and hero to many
.
“Oh,” I choked out and pressed a fist to my mouth. I swallowed a sob and tried to get my mind on something else. Sadly, I couldn’t think of anything but him.
They found his body two days after the Twin Towers collapsed. His arm was hooked through his best friend, Andrew’s. Over a dozen other fire fighters were found on that day too.
When they found him, they had to pull a large piece of the wall from the top of his body. They believe that that was what killed him. He was hit with that piece of debris and it crushed him against the rest of the destruction. He was killed instantly; his spine breaking in two and his spinal cord snapping.
I let out another sigh and let the tears fall. I clearly remembered the day that I found out that he was dead for real.
It was only three days after the devastating day, millions would remember.
A day that would go down in history as one of the worst attacks in the United States.
I was in my apartment cleaning up the kitchen from my breakfast when I heard a faint knock against the door. At first, I thought Alex had invited Hope over, so I waited for him to get it. After a minute or two, there was another knock; one that sounded urgent and impatient.
My heart swelled and I ran to the door, thinking that he had finally come home. I had always pictured him dead, but that could have been the best surprise of my life.
I threw the door open, looking for a tall man with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes, but what I got wasn’t what I wanted.
Outside, stood a heavyset man in his late forties.
He had thinning blonde hair on the top of his round head and had small blue eyes that scanned me over. He was wearing a nice, official-looking suit, complete with a wooden cane.
“Yes?” I wondered aloud. My heart was still pounding in my chest and I tried to relax.
“Claire Barnes?” he stated in a deep, booming voice. I nodded slowly.
“That’s me,” I replied and placed my hands on my hips. “What is this all about?”
“Are you the girlfriend to a,” he scanned over the clipboard he had clutched in his hand, “Michael Herring?”
Once Michael’s name was uttered from the man’s lips, my heart kicked into overtime, pounding against my chest in such a way that I was certain that the man could hear it. I swallowed loudly and placed a hand over my fluttering heart.
“Yes,” I choked out. The man watched me with a twinge of sadness in his eyes.
he
tightened his grip on his cane before speaking.
“I am so sorry to tell you...,” he started. My eyes widened and I let out a sob.
“No,” I muttered in agony. I bit my lip and tried not to let the tears flow. “Please God, no.”
“...that Michael Herring died in the collapse of the South Tower on September 11, 2001,” he stated. His eyes saddened and I could feel my bottom lip trembling.
“No,” I shot out again, this time with more force. His eyes widened with surprise. “He isn’t dead. I know he isn’t. He promised me that he would be back. He loves me.”
“I’m so sorry Miss Barnes,” he whispered and nodded his head. I reached out and snagged the end of his coat. I pounding my fists against his chest, but he seemed unmoved.
“No.” I was shouting now, my voice echoing throughout the apartment. “He isn’t dead!”
The man was trying to pry me away from his coat tails, but I tightened my grip. Suddenly, there was another pair of arms underneath mine, pulling me away. Fingers that weren’t mine
pryed
me from my grasp on the man’s coat. The man huffed and muttered something unintelligent before walking off.
I was dragged back to the couch in the living room before the person let me go. They walked back to the door and closed it, but not before locking it first. They came back over to me and I closed my eyes.
“Claire,” a soft voice murmured. I looked up into my brother’s dark green eyes and felt the tears start streaming down my face.
I
burried
my face in my hands and sobbed.
“It isn’t fair,” I cried, my voice muffled through my hands. “It just isn’t fair.”
“
Sh
,” Alex soothed. I heard him sit down on the floor next to me. His arms were suddenly
around me, trapping me. I turned towards him and cried into his shoulder.
We sat like that for a couple of hours. My tears soaked through his t-shirt and he ran his hands over my back. He murmured the same words to me over and over again. They replayed again and again in my mind as I sobbed into his shoulder
.
“It will all be okay, Claire. It will all be okay. It will all be okay.”
I let out another sob and ran a hand over my face. I wiped the tears off my face, but they continued to stream down my face, splashing onto the already damp glass below.
“It won’t all be okay.” I uttered under my breath. “It won’t.”
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the pocket knife I had stashed in it an hour ago. I hid it from Alex and when I knew he wouldn’t be able to see it, I looked down at the
samll
red case.
I found the knife in Alex’s sock drawer. I guessed that he kept it for safety purposes. I had taken it from him and kept it, waiting for the perfect time to use it.
I flipped the blade out again and took in a deep breath. I ran a finger against the sharp edge, wincing as a stabbing pain flew up my arm. I looked down again and saw a drop of red,
sitcky
liquid on the tip of my finger. I touched my tongue to it and shuddered at the taste. It tasted like rust and salt.
“I’m going to be with you soon, Michael,” I declared and tightened my grip on the handle. My hand shook as I pressed the tip of the blade to the inside of my wrist. I quickly slid the knife across my skin, before I could think otherwise.
“
Argh
,” I cried out in pain as I dropped the knife. I clutched my wrist and could feel the blood seeping through my fingers. I took in short, labored breaths and tried to look around for the knife. My vision blurred with unshed tears as I groped the ground for the blood stained blade that was going to end it. End me.
“Claire!” Alex shouted in my direction and ran towards me. He reached out and grabbed the knife before I could and threw it out of sight. “Claire!”
He took the scarf from around his neck and tied it around my wrist. I looked
up,
my vision still clouded and could only make out his figure as he frantically worked over me. Pain shot up my arm again and I screamed out in anguish.
“
Sh
, Claire,” Alex yelled again. His lips were right next to my ear; his breath hot and harsh. “It will all be okay. It will all be okay. We are going to get you help.”
“Alex,” Hope showed up beside him and I noticed that she was wringing her wrists. She shot a look at me and blanched at the drops of blood covering my skin and clothes. “What-what...”
“I need you to call 911,” he commanded. “She slit herself pretty deep and this scarf isn’t going to hold off much longer.”
Hope hesitated for a moment, watching me cry out with pain.
“Hope, go now!” shouted Alex. She ran off, fresh tears running down her face. Alex turned back to me, placing my head in his lap.
“Alex,” I muttered, reaching my free hand out towards him. He snatched my hand and wrapped his fingers around mine. He grimaced down at me and sighed.
“Why, Claire?” he asked. “Why did you try to kill yourself? Why?”
“
Because, I can’t live without him.
A person can’t live without their heart,” I stated and closed my eyes. Alex was silent for a moment and all of a sudden I tasted salty water on my tongue.
My eyes flicked open and I frowned. I wasn’t crying, was I? I looked up into Alex’s face and gaped at the tears trailing down his cheeks. He muffled sobs, making his shoulder shudder violently. I squeezed his hand and he looked at me through bleary eyes. My brother was actually crying for the first time in years.
“I love you,” I murmured and closed my eyes. I let out a long breath and could faintly hear sirens edging closer. But I focused on the voice next to my ear.
“God, no,” Alex sobbed into my ear. “Claire, you can’t die now. What will I do now? Please don’t leave me, Claire. I need you. Claire, I love you.”
I smiled softly and felt new pairs of hands tugging at my body. I finally fell into a deep sleep, seeing Michael’s face in my mind.